


when we fall, we fall together

by gabstar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, But mostly fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Might be triggering because Oikawa dislocates his knee??, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Snow, Winter fic, really cheesy title i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabstar/pseuds/gabstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto witnesses the tender affection between Oikawa and his ace and feels a strange sense of longing. Like somehow that should be his life, and somehow Akaashi should be involved too. </p><p>((Tooru gets his knee injury, and Bokuto has an awakening))</p><p>**trigger warning for Tooru's knee getting dislocated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when we fall, we fall together

Bokuto supposes it starts during a practice match against Seijou.

Nothing against Aoba Johsai, but Bokuto wasn’t looking forward to it. The bus ride to get there was long and tedious, and they weren’t even scheduled to face each other in prelims, so any inside information they might get on them would be useless. And while Seijou was a strong enough team to be a good, fun match Bokuto just wasn’t feeling it today.

Akaashi seems to sense something is wrong as they help each other stretch.

“You’re quiet today, Bokuto-san.”

“Mm?” Bokuto winces in pain as Akaashi pushes down on his back just a bit too hard. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I’m just not in the mood for a practice match.”

“Not in the mood for volleyball?” Akaashi asks, amused. “That’s a first.”

“The bus ride here makes me all stiff,” Bokuto whines, rolling his shoulders out and--ah yeah. Still hurts.

“Mm,” Akaashi ponders. “Your shoulders?”

Bokuto nods, pouting.

“Alright come here.”

Bokuto leans back, letting Akaashi kneel and kneed his fingers into his shoulder muscles.

“Ow, ow, ow! Mean, Akaashi!” Bokuto shouts, betrayed. He tries to wiggle away but Akaashi holds him close.

“Don’t be so loud, I’m trying to help,” Akaashi snaps, ears turning red as they draw strange looks. “It doesn’t work unless you relax.”

Bokuto tries and for a moment he feels better. Akaashi’s unforgiving nature comes in handy when it comes to the knots along Bokuto’s back. However there’s also something about Akaashi’s touch that makes Bokuto restless. He feels the back of his neck heat up as Akaashi’s thumbs scrape by.

There’s a tender spot at the top of Bokuto’s shoulder blade and as Akaashi rubs by Bokuto’s skin breaks out in goosebumps.

Bokuto springs to his feet.

“Thanks Akaashi! That was-- that was great.” Bokuto’s voice squeaks slightly. He feels so jittery.  Like all of his nerves are alight and buzzing, concentrated where Akaashi’s touched him, committing it to memory.

“Ohhhh Akaashi-kun’s giving massages? Do me next, me next!” Komi says, jumping in and taking Bokuto’s vacated spot.  

“What, I want a massage too, Akaashi--” Konoha joins in too, slinging an arm around a disgruntled Akaashi.

Akaashi glares at Bokuto like it’s his fault as he kindly shoves Konoha off.

 

xxxx

 

That weird, tingly feeling still hasn’t left Bokuto as the game starts.

He has to shake the captain's hand, of course, and it’s even less pleasant than Bokuto had anticipated. Oikawa’s smiles are all empty and his hand is surprisingly cold to the touch.

“Ah! Bokuto-chan good to see you again!” Oikawa says. “See you’ve stuck with the old number four, eh?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Bokuto remembers, looking down at his jersey. “I dunno, it just never felt right.” It had felt wrong to take the previous captain’s number, as if he was still waiting for him to come back and reclaim it.

“Well, it is a heavy weight to bear,” Oikawa says breezily. “No shame in not being able to handle it.”

Oikawa’s expression turns smug, and quickly heat is rising to Bokuto’s cheeks. Oikawa drops his hand and walks back to the group huddle, where his own number four is glaring at him.

“Hey, hey, heyyyy wait! What is that supposed to mean?” Bokuto shouts, but Oikawa doesn’t turn back. Before Bokuto can say anything else, Akaashi grabs his wrist.

“You can’t let him rile you up,” Akaashi hisses. “He knows he can't beat you when you're at your strongest. He’s trying to make you reckless.”

Bokuto tries to calm down, but Akaashi’s touching him again and it’s making his mouth inexplicably dry. He can’t stop looking at Akaashi’s number five, and remembering how it used to be a two. What had Akaashi said about the change? Something about being overly sentimental? There hadn’t been a split second of hesitation before Akaashi had changed his number too.

“Try to stay calm,” Akaashi says before releasing him and the game begins.

Seijou is good, Bokuto will give them that. Their defense is tight, both their blockers and libero strong, and Oikawa’s serves are absolutely terrifying. They rip through Fukurodani’s defense like it’s nothing. But where Seijou is powerful, Fukurodani is adaptable. Akaashi’s eyes flit from spiker to spiker, with a heavy reliance on Bokuto. Akaashi always does this at the beginning of matches, squeezing as many points from Bokuto’s powerful cross-spikes as he can before the other team catches on. And as soon as they’re on the same page Akaashi changes the rhythm using Sarukui and Konoha every couple beats, trying to throw them off.

In the last set, Bokuto’s energy is at it’s highest. He’s nearly shaking and Akaashi’s shooting him warning looks. _Don’t get dejected. Not yet._

Oikawa’s up to serve, smirking and making Bokuto fidgety and anxious. He wants to be the one to return that monstrous serve, to see the hint of frustration pinch Oikawa’s brows, to have Akaashi look at him, impressed.

But as Oikawa tosses, his knees bending in preparation to jump, one quakes and gives out entirely. Oikawa falls gracelessly, landing on top of his useless knee. With a grotesque pop, Oikawa’s knee dislocates and he shrieks in pain.

Bokuto freezes, wide and tense with shock. The whole gym is heavy and silent-- almost afraid to move in the wake of the sounds of Oikawa’s pain-- with only one standout exception.

“ _Oikawa!_ ”

Their own number four (Iwaizumi, Bokuto remembers) is running and kneeling and he’s reaching for Oikawa with shaking tenderness. Oikawa is crying, gasping in pain, face white with shock. His fingers tremble as they reach for him too.

“Iwa-- Iwa, my knee.”

Iwaizumi cups Oikawa’s face in one hand, the other on his shoulder, pushing him down as Oikawa tries to pull himself up.

“No, no don’t get up, you might make it worse,” Iwaizumi’s gruff voice is so easy to hear over the stunned silence. Oikawa whines softly and Iwaizumi shushes him. “You need to lay down.”

Oikawa’s hand is fisted in Iwaizumi’s shirt, keeping him close, mouthing something that looks to Bokuto like _don’t leave me_.

The coach's catch up after that, Oikawa’s carried over to the bench where he waits for his parents to take him to the doctor. Iwaizumi joins him, of course, one arm wrapped around Oikawa and their faces kept close. Bokuto can see their lips moving as they mutter to one another, Oikawa’s still crying, looking concerned and Iwaizumi stubborn. Bokuto can see when Oikawa relents and sinks into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, Iwaizumi only pretending to be smug about it until he knows Oikawa can’t see him.

“Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto jumps like he’s been caught intruding. He blushes as Akaashi looks at him in concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“What? Yeah, fine.” Bokuto coughs. “I hope Oikawa’s okay, but hey, we’ll probably win now without their best player. But, wow. Poor Oikawa.”

Akaashi raises his eyebrows. “I think Iwaizumi-san is going with him. I don’t think we’re going to keep playing.”

“Oh.” Bokuto sees the other team, clustered together and whispering. “Yeah. Doesn’t look like it.”

“Here.” Akaashi hands Bokuto his water bottle. “Good job keeping your cool today, Captain. “

Bokuto elates under his setter’s praise. “Really? You thought I was cool?”

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

Bokuto grins and Akaashi smiles back, eyes soft and warm. It feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The image of Iwaizumi cradling Oikawa’s head, hand solid on Oikawa’s torso comes rushing back to him and Bokuto chokes.

“Bokuto-san? Bokuto, are you alright?”

Bokuto recalls the tender affection between Oikawa and his ace and feels a strange sense of longing. Like somehow that should be his life, and somehow Akaashi should be involved too. 

“Fine, fine. I’m fine. Um. Let's start cool down stretches, yeah?” Bokuto tries to brush it off casually and Akaashi’s eyes narrow.

“Alright," Akaashi relents. "But you first, I don’t want you spitting water all over me.”

 

xxxx

 

The incident ends up haunting Bokuto.

He keeps catching himself staring at Akaashi, remembering the way Iwaizumi touched Oikawa without hesitation, the instant relief on Oikawa’s face when Iwaizumi was at his side. The curiosity’s biting at him. What would Akaashi do if Bokuto reached out brushed a stray curl from his face? If he grabbed his wrist as they walked home or if he hooked an arm around his waist while watching a movie-- Bokuto ends up suffering a lot of stray volleyballs to the head and laughter at his dazed expense.

There’s a guilt-stricken part of him that tells him to knock it off. That he should care more about Oikawa’s pain and hoping he’s getting better, not fixating on the affectionate nature between him and Iwaizumi. But the more Bokuto resolves not to linger on it, the more it’s caught on replay in his head. And the more Bokuto aches for that kind of affection to be _his_.  

“Oikawa’s doing fine, by the way.”

Akaashi and Bokuto walk home together, bundled in scarves and coats. The dark clouds above muffling the sun and promising snow would soon cover the dying leaves that rattle through the streets. Bokuto clears his throat in surprise.

“Oh. That’s good, I’m glad to hear it,” Bokuto says, glancing at a leaf caught in Akaashi’s dark curls. The temptation to grab it is near overwhelming.

“He overworks himself regularly, apparently,” Akaashi says, squinting as the winter wind picks up. “But he’s doing alright. It wasn’t too severe.”

“That’s… Yeah. Hopefully he’ll be back before prelims start.” Bokuto’s heart is racing. Does Akaashi know? Impossible, not even Akaashi’s a mind reader. Even though Bokuto immediately second guesses himself as Akaashi’s striking gaze turns on him.

“It won’t happen to you,” Akaashi says softly. “I won’t let you overwork yourself like that.”

Oh. That’s what Akaashi thinks Bokuto’s worried about. Bokuto forces out a laugh just to break the tension filling the space between them.

“Yeah, you’re the best like that,” Bokuto admits.  

Akaashi hums in agreement. “What would you do without me?”

Akaashi’s mouth is covered with his scarf, but his eyes are smiling, teasing. _God, he’s pretty_ , Bokuto thinks. He flushes, hoping Akaashi will mistake it for the chill. His laugh is weaker this time.

“Yeah I-- I’d probably be dead or lost or something,” Bokuto says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Akaashi considers him for a second, then loops his arm around Bokuto’s and holds his elbow like Bokuto’s seen in foreign movies.  

“You better stay close then.”

 

xxxx

 

When it comes to disasters like these, there’s one place Bokuto knows he can always turn to.

“Oho? Calling so late, Bokuto? Do I need to pick you up from a bar? A girl’s house?” Kuroo teases, voice tinny over the call.

Bokuto’s sprawled out on his bed, still in his winter coat and phone pressed to his ear as he stares at his ceiling fan. He can still feel Akaashi’s missing warmth beside him.

“When did you know?”

Kuroo stops laughing. “What?”

“With Kenma, when did you know?” Bokuto clarifies.

“Kenma?” Kuroo asks like he’s never heard the name before. “What do you-- oh, sorry babe, not you. I’m on the phone. Yeah, Bokuto.”

Bokuto can hear a distinct _tch_ on the other side of the line. “Tell him to go to bed.”  

“Kenma says hi,” Kuroo says casually. “Um. Hold on, Bo. Let me go outside.”

Bokuto waits. The sounds of Kuroo shuffling to get his coat on and huffing a little are familiar enough to be comforting. He’s almost tempted to go out and meet him, but it would probably be harder to talk about face to face. Already Bokuto’s swimming in butterflies and uncertainty.

Bokuto hears the door close on Kuroo’s side. “Sorry, Kenma’s sleeping over.”

Unsurprising but Bokuto feels a flash of jealousy nonetheless. It was always so easy with Kenma and Kuroo. Bokuto wishes he had that same ease with Akaashi.

“So what’s up?” Kuroo says.

“I think I am in love with Akaashi.”

The words are out Bokuto’s mouth before he can stop them and it makes every nerve in his body tremble. It’s like his words have opened a floodgate of truths he didn’t know he had. He wants to hold Akaashi close, he wants to kiss his pink nose when it’s cold out, he wants to feel the hum of his voice and the curve of his cheek and how his mouth might taste if Bokuto kissed it over and over. And though his flesh might tremble with the weight of all this knowing, his bones are still. Because this was it, this was inevitable. This was something that was always, always meant to happen, from the moment Bokuto saw him, a scrawny, beautiful setter walk in and made him think _oh_.

Kuroo whistles. “Caught on, have you?”

Bokuto wants to punch him. “Shut up, man I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know? It was so obvious.” Bokuto just knows he’s got the biggest shit-eating grin and he hates it. “Come on man. You knew.”

“Yeah. I think I did.” Bokuto chews the inside of his cheek. “Did you? With Kenma?”

“Absolutely,” Kuroo says without hesitation. “Always.”

Bokuto groans. “Did it hurt?”

Kuroo sniffs. He’s probably freezing standing outside like that. “Maybe a little.”

Bokuto squirms. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“That’s normal,” Kuroo promises idly. “Before our first date, I was so nervous I didn’t eat for like, a whole day, and nearly passed out on the walk home.”  

Bokuto snorts. “Pathetic.”

“Shut up, so are you, bird brain,” Kuroo says, laughing.

Bokuto’s smiling but he doesn’t say anything. He’s still awash in this new feeling, like a warm hand around his heart, squeezing each time Bokuto thinks _Akaashi_. Bokuto sits up alert and alive for the first time since the practice match.

“I have to see him,” Bokuto says suddenly.

“Whoa settle down buddy, I think Akaashi’s asleep,” Kuroo says and Bokuto checks his clock. Eleven-fifteen on a school night, Bokuto’s probably already being rude keeping Kuroo awake this late.

“Ugh.” Bokuto crashes back on the bed. “This is the worst, how do you feel like this all the time?”

“You get used to it,” Kuroo says. “It gets better.”

Bokuto’s phone buzzes. He has a new email from Akaashi.

“ _Kenma says to let Kuroo sleep. And you should too, Bokuto-san_.”

Bokuto’s practically bubbling. “I got to go, Kuroo. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night, Bo.”

“Night.”

It takes twenty minutes and six different saved drafts before Bokuto settles on replying with a smiling emoji, a sleeping emoji and a “ _Goodnight Akaashi_.”

 

xxxx

 

It’s snowed over night. Everything draped in glittering white, still blue before the sunrise. Bokuto bundles up, hands fumbling with excitement. Snow, Akaashi, snowmen, Akaashi, snowfights, snow angels, Akaashi, hot chocolate, sledding, Akaashi-- everything is wonderful. Bokuto bursts out the door, ready to sprint to practice finding the snow is deep and is absolutely not going to let him do that so he settles for a hearty speedwalk instead.

He sees Akaashi waiting for him outside the club room, hair tousled, cheeks pink, clutching a steaming mug in his hands. He gives Bokuto a wave and Bokuto breaks into a jog. _Akaashi_.

But of all things that snow brings, Bokuto had forgotten about one.  As soon as he picks up the pace, his feet slide out from underneath him, slipping on the ice. He falls face-first onto the snowy path ahead of him.

“Bokuto-san!”

Akaashi sounds distant. The snow and Bokuto’s beanie had shielded him a little from the impact on his head, but when Akaashi crouches over him Bokuto sees triple. All four Akaashi’s are so pretty when they’re concerned, thinks Bokuto blearily.

“Are you alright?” Akaashi asks, getting to his knees, taking Bokuto’s hand and scanning him for injuries.

“Yeah, fine, fine,” Bokuto says, dizzy. “Wow. Ow.”

Akaashi cups Bokuto’s face in his hands. “You hit your head, you might have a concussion.”

Akaashi checks Bokuto’s pupils, then pulls back Bokuto’s beanie to look at the bruise forming on his forehead and tuts disapprovingly. Bokuto watches as Akaashi examines him. Akaashi’s eyelashes have caught snowflakes and his hair is glittered with them. He’s pink with cold and scowling in concentration and it’s probably the loveliest sight Bokuto’s ever seen.

Akaashi huffs when he’s done. “What were you doing running like that? You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

Bokuto blinks out of thought. “I was excited to see you.”

Akaashi’s expression is caught somewhere between pleased and annoyed. “Ridiculous. You see me every day.”

“I know,” Bokuto says, rubbing his forehead gingerly. “Still exciting.”

Akaashi definitely wasn’t just pink from the cold. “Be more careful, Bokuto-san.”

“Alright, alright I promise,” Bokuto says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Akaashi huffs again and Bokuto knows he’s thinking of Oikawa’s fall and how traumatic that had been for him and his team. Bokuto wonders if Oikawa felt this same kind of guilt for making Iwaizumi worry.

“Hey, Akaashi.”

“Yeah?”

Bokuto realizes this probably isn’t the best moment, kneeling in the snow, possibly concussed and altogether unprepared, but he doesn’t have time to think about it before he’s pulling on the front of Akaashi's coat and kissing him.

Bokuto thinks it’s pretty nice. Soft, warm, _right_. He can taste Akaashi's coffee, feel the indent where Akaashi has a tiny scar from biting it until it bled in an unfortunate volleyball practice last year. Bokuto runs his tongue along it like an apology and feels Akaashi gasp against him. Akaashi kisses him back and Bokuto feels his heart skyrocket, his hands trembling as they wrap around Akaashi's warm body. Akaashi’s cradling Bokuto’s face again, pulling him closer, letting their kiss deepen. Bokuto, eager to meet Akaashi’s pace, turns his head for a better angle and knocks their foreheads together.

“Ow, ow, sorry,” Bokuto says, rubbing his already tender bruise.

Akaashi’s laughing. The sun has fully risen, the snow is so white and bright it’s painful, but Akaashi’s smile is still what shines most. Akaashi kisses Bokuto’s forehead lightly.

“Sorry,” Akaashi echos. “Do you want to try that again?”

Bokuto nods and this time they get it right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ahhhhh i love bokuaka so much help me ;v; Unbeta'd so please let me know if there are mistakes. Feedback would be amaze! Thank you! 
> 
> ((pst hit me up at cutiekeiji on tumblr so we can talk bokuaka together!!))


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